There are matches that cannot be scripted. They start seeming one thing and end up being something quite different. The one in Pamplona was heading for a goalless draw and looked like that for a long 80 minutes.
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But no.
The hours before the match contributed to the deception. They influenced everyone so much that what happened in the final stretch had a touch of unreality. Between refined Barcelona debates about the best way to rub the league in Real Madrid’s face – a) guard of honor; b) better by beating them at Camp Nou – and vibrant comments that never reached elevator talk (“How much it has rained in Pamplona and how well the El Sadar pitch drained, huh?”, sometimes we are all elderly gentlemen and ladies who have already said it all), the night seemed destined for a goalless draw. But no, the competitive spirit of Flick’s Barça, precisely one of its identity marks, appeared when it was least expected.
It bore Lewandowski’s signature, assisted by a Rashford whom Osasuna’s defense seemed to watch through binoculars. It was the Polish striker’s swan song, through an academic header that sums up his career and contribution to Barcelona over four seasons. It is unlikely he will continue, a farewell that would favor a happy memory of his time at FC Barcelona.
The Blaugrana team, until that goal, displayed a false complacency… as if they cared more about the next match against Madrid than the one against Osasuna. It was a lie. And it worked.
In the first half, so few things happened that the referee signaled its end with three or four seconds left before 45 minutes. Barça, without Lamine Yamal and Raphinha, has been giving up on vertigo in some matches with good reason, opting to keep the ball and control the game with possession rates from other eras. It worked in Getafe and in Pamplona, although it didn’t seem so, it did. The only scares were from Budimir. The hyperactive Croatian striker was the end of all his team’s fast transitions. He hit the post and forced a great two-handed save at the base of the post by Joan Garcia.
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Barcelonism has normalized that it has a goalkeeper for ten years. Great goalkeepers achieve something very appreciated in these times dominated by anxiety and its multiple forms: calming the nerves of those around them. It’s not just what they stop, it’s what you imagine they will also stop. Joan Garcia, moreover, is not arrogant though he could be. His face is that of normal people. They say there is no sane goalkeeper. Let’s see if this young man breaks the stereotype.
The second half was neither better nor worse than the first. The feeling of bureaucratic management of efforts continued. Few fouls, few chances… even little controversy, a rarity in times of endless controversy.
As the minutes passed, even the posh Barça debate of these days regained space. Whether it’s better to celebrate the league on the sofa or at Camp Nou. The mystery will remain unsolved one more day. A former high-level athlete told me that for a player there is no comparison. Better the grass of your stadium than the carpet of your mansion. Even so, Flick’s players never knew how to settle for a draw. Much less a goalless one.
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